In His Pocket
by SweetDeamon
Summary: After finding out what happened to James and Lily, Remus does something he'll always regret. In response to wild birds' Lupin Challenge.


_Note: Written in response to **The Lupin Challenge #29**, as set by **wild birds**, on the **Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges Forum**. This is the first challenge that I have ever accepted!_

_It's a little bit rushed and for some strange reason I think I got confused with tenses...which has not happened for pretty much as long as I can remember! I blame the lack of tea that I have drunk today, either that or the slightly hazy mind I seem to get each time I come back from visiting the hospital! Anyway, I wanted to post before I got consumed with all things university related! So here it is, I hope you all like it, especially **wild birds**, of course! _

_**Prompt: After finding out what happened to James and Lily, Remus does something he'll always regret. **_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any profit from this piece of writing._

**In His Pocket**

When they had found out about his daily ritual one morning during their final year at Hogwarts, Remus Lupin's friends had all reacted in different ways.

Sirius had suggested that it meant he was "a little bit gay". _It's like we're your boyfriends or something_, he'd teased, _and Lily's your girlfriend_.

At the mere thought of his One True Love being the girlfriend of somebody else, his friend even, James had told Sirius to shut up and had revealed: _I think it's...nice in a creepy sort of way_.

Peter hadn't really said anything at all because by then Remus had looked so utterly embarrassed that he wasn't sure speaking would be wise.

Lily had said it was lovely and had given the warm faced boy a hug, which had seemingly only embarrassed him further.

Years later, long after the deaths of Lily, James and Peter, after Sirius had been locked away for his unspeakable crimes, Remus tried with all his might to remember the scene in his mind with crystal clear clarity; the look of vague bemusement on James' face, the way he'd fiddled with his glasses and pushed them up the bridge of his nose, the feeling of Lily's arms around him, the lingering smell of shampoo upon her red hair.

Remus tried so hard to remember them because it was the only happy remnant of a ritual that had died along with the Potters. He'd destroyed it in a fit of despair, and had regretted doing so ever since.

It had all begun just after Lily had finally agreed to date James and she had accompanied the Marauders down to Hogsmeade for the day. It had been the same as all the other Hogsmeade weekends that Remus could remember; they'd drunk butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, blown all of the gold in their pockets in Zonko's and stuffed themselves full of sweets from Honeydukes.

The only difference was that Lily had decided to bring a camera along to immortalize their trip. Just before they had set off back to Hogwarts, James and Lily had carefully balanced the camera atop a ramshackle wall that ran along the lane, and then all five of them had posed for a group photograph, grinning triumphantly at a day well spent. Later, once Lily had had the pictures developed, Remus had asked to keep the last one and she had given him a copy.

The photograph of him surrounded by his friends had been Remus' most treasured possession, and he treated it accordingly. Every morning when he awoke he would cast a fresh anti-creasing charm upon the captured memory, and then he would tuck it into the inside pocket of his robes and keep it there until he went to bed that night. He hadn't thought it creepy, as James had put it, and the word gay had never even occurred to him. It was just something that he did, something constant in life, just like his friends were.

The pocket was in actual fact a little too small to contain the photograph entirely, it poked out the top and scuffed against his school jumper when he moved his arms, pressed against his chest when he breathed deeply, and he was forever conscious of its presence. It went everywhere with him, reminding him that no matter what life threw at him, he was never alone. Once out of school he took to sewing inside pockets into any of his robes that had none, and if a pocket was too deep he would carefully shrink it.

This little ritual got him through a number of difficult times in life: stepping off the Hogwarts Express for the final time to find himself out in the big wide world that shook his courage to the core; the first time he'd realised his vault at Gringotts contained enough gold to last him one more month and he had no idea what he was going to do when it finally ran out; when he'd joined the Order of the Phoenix for the first time and the implications of such a choice had finally sunk in and twisted his insides into knots.

Each time Remus would pause, draw in a deep, calming breath, and press his hand to his chest. He would feel a corner of paper prick at him through the thin cotton of his shirt like a gentle yet potent stinging jinx that would banish his fear, bolster his confidence. And then he would carry on regardless, knowing that he had his friends behind him.

But then Remus had learned of Sirius' betrayal, realised what he had done.

"They're gone, Remus." Dumbledore had repeated gently for what seemed to the werewolf to be the hundredth time. "I'm so very, very sorry."

And Remus had sat in the faded armchair, hand clasped desperately to his chest, still shaking his head in numb incomprehension. He wanted to tell the man stood before him that he was wrong, he had to be wrong, that Lily and James could not be dead...he couldn't be on his own, he simply couldn't...

But words were beyond him, he could barely focus his eyes upon the Order Leader with a suitably horrified expression, let alone coax his tongue into registering verbal despair.

"I'm going to leave Harry with his aunt and uncle." Dumbledore explained, and it was not for a long moment that Remus even registered he had spoken, indeed the name Harry didn't seem to mean anything for another moment still. When his sluggish mind finally caught up with the Headmaster's words, Remus squeezed his eyes firmly closed.

_Oh Merlin, little Harry..._

The hand upon his chest balled into a fist and he heard the muffled crunching of the photograph in his pocket being crumpled.

"I'm so sorry." Dumbledore said again, and Remus had vaguely registered the older man patting him somewhat feebly upon the arm. "I must go and inform the others...do you think perhaps you should...is there somebody you could...?"

As the Order Leader trailed off into hopeful silence, Remus had felt a hideous urge to start weeping.

"No." he managed to mumble, eyes still closed. "I'd like to be alone."

_I am alone. Whether I like it or not. _

Once Dumbledore had made his solemn exit, Remus sat, in the little living room of the cottage his had inherited from his parents, in a bewildered silence for some minutes...hours...he wasn't really sure, before he finally pulled the photograph out from his pocket and looked down at the cheerful faces that were beaming back at him. He had spent some time attempting to tell himself that his friends had not really gone, that he had not truly been abandoned, because the photograph had still been there in his pocket, he could still draw strength from it, recalling that Lily, James and Peter at least had cared for him, believed in him...

But then he had looked down at their smiles and their waving and found himself quite overcome with emotion. The image had swum horribly before him as tears blurred his vision and at that moment Remus knew that he could not bear to look upon the image, nor have it in his pocket where it would surely pierce his heart and leave him in agonizing despair.

And so it was that Remus Lupin reached for the wand that he had set down upon the coffee table, grip upon the handle desperately determined, pressed the trembling tip to the middle of the paper and, with a single choked word, did one thing that he would always live to regret:

"_Evanesco_!"

The frozen memory had disappeared forever.

Remus had expected some sort of relief. He had thought that accepting his loss would be easier without the constant reminder of what he had lost being tucked into his pocket.

It took mere hours for him to realise that he had thought wrong. For, so used to the press of paper against cotton and the slight sound of them brushing together was he, that he was forever acutely aware that the photograph was gone.

Just like Lily and James.

And what comfort did he have when he felt low? Not their smiles, not a reminder of better times, not the reassurance that he was capable of true happiness.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

And so it was that Remus Lupin found himself regretting one single thing forever: the emptiness in his pocket.


End file.
